Cyanide and The Old Regime
by Catherine Wheels
Summary: I'm not blaming Lithuania for what he did. I simply wish he hadn't. -No romance. Sort of dark crack. From Latvia's POV.-


A/N: This is from Latvia's POV. And it's the prologue to a RP I'm doing with a friend. Essentially, we're doing a RussiaxChina RP, and we had this realization that, apart from knowing that Lithuania was with America, we had forgotten the Baltics. So I said we should kill Estonia and have Latvia fleeing for his little life.

Yes, I realize that in canon it is a chore and a half to kill a Nation. But STFU. It's a fanfic. It's not like ya'll were expecting perfect historical accuracy anyway. If you were, you wouldn't be reading Hetalia fanfic in the first place.

* * *

What Lithuania did wasn't wrong. I don't think that Mr. Russia didn't deserve it... But I wish that Lithuania hadn't. Because if he hadn't, Estonia wouldn't have died, and I wouldn't have had to go into hiding. I still can't say I blame him, though.

I would stay awake some nights and listen to them fight. Mr. Russia and Toris fought often, but it was something about the way they were doing so that week that made me nervous. Lithuania would stay in bed for a long time in the morning, and when I saw him, he would be silent and bruised, struggling to walk. "I hate him," he would say to me as we washed dishes or mopped the floors, "I hate him so much."

Estonia would nod and say, "But you have to be patient, Toris. You have to remember that he's not always in his right mind."

"You two don't know the worst of it," Lithuania would sigh.

We spend many days like that. Sometimes it was Estonia who would end up in Mr. Russia's bedroom, but they never argued, and Estonia seemed to be in less pain the following morning. I never went, and I often wondered why, but never envied the others.

One afternoon, while Estonia was helping Mr. Russia balance his finances and Lithuania and I were chipping ice off the front porch, he began to talk to me. "Latvia," Lithuania said quietly, "I'm going to cook dinner tonight."

"I know," I replied, "That's your task. And mine is to set the table. And Estonia's is to make sure we have everything we need."

"I need," he said, setting the shovel down and taking my hand. I stopped my work, looking up at him. "For you to know that something is going to go wrong this dinner."

I stared at him, nervous. "What do you mean?" He looked so serious with a bruise on his left eye and his lips slightly swollen.

"Simply that… It's a new recipe. Just don't eat it, alright? I don't know how well I'll be able to make it, and I don't want anybody to get hurt. He always eats quickly, he won't even notice you two not doing so."

I could only continue to stare, almost uncomprehending. I knew his words meant that he was going to try to hurt Mr. Russia, but I didn't believe he had it in him. He had always been so docile before. Even I could see that he was just a puppet, a chew toy for a large and angry dog. But at that moment, he looked so determined, so battered, so desperate…

"What will we do afterwards?"

"Come with me, I guess."

"Where are you going?"

His eyes lit up a bit, and he smiled slightly. "America. I'm going to America."

I didn't have the heart to tell him I thought it was a foolish plan. Mr. Russia would find him, and us, if we went. He always did. It wasn't like we hadn't tried hiding before. In the attics, behind bathroom doors… The longer we hid, the angrier he was. I had narrowly escaped a broken bone from the time he tossed me down the stairs when I was younger. I learned after that to never hide.

Dinner smelled strange that night, like almonds. How could Mr. Russia not know what was going to happen? But he sat down at the table with his typical smile, his eyes un-knowing. Maybe he didn't have a good sense of smell… It was possible, I decided, he had been through a lot in his life, after all.

Lithuania gave Estonia and me a pointed look, and I stood up, going to get a glace of water. Estonia began to cut his food slowly. Lithuania just sat still. It wasn't uncommon for him not to eat. Mr. Russia, as he often did, simply ate mechanically, and quickly, and in large quality. He finished two plates. I hated to give him a second helping when he asked me for it. I was terrified of him dying, of course, but I was more terrified that Lithuania hadn't put enough of whatever poison he was using into the food.

Mr. Russia didn't even notice that none of us ate. He was distracted as usual, mumbling to himself with that cardboard smile. Lithuania patted him on the shoulder and headed back upstairs, and Estonia said something about finances and technology and went away. That left me to do dishes and wait to see what the outcome would be.

It didn't take long. I had just started washing the first dish when he stood up and gave me an odd look, his typical smile falling. "Latvia…" he said quietly, "I feel a bit… off, da…"

I could only watch in horror as he grabbed for me, and then toppled to the floor, screaming. His eyes were wide and terrified, his breath short. There was bile rising to the edges of his mouth and all he could do was hold his throat, his nails digging into his skin. What had Lithuania done? What had he given him? Mr. Russia was twitching and writhing, not even making noises anymore, forced to resign to dribbling vomit and spit, trying to breathe.

"Lithuania… Lithuania!" I began to cry. I didn't want to be alone to watch Mr. Russia die, but I knew I couldn't leave his side. If he somehow managed to pull through, he would be so angry… I at least wanted the knowledge that I would be spared for staying with him.

Nobody came. I ended up getting water and trying to pour it into his mouth, but he spat it back up. I quickly un-wrapped the scarf from his neck to be sure he wouldn't ruin it. He lay perfectly still on the floor then, his eyes not even blinking. I couldn't stop sobbing. I didn't want him to die, really, and I knew this wouldn't teach him anything but to be more paranoid. Bad things only made him behave worse, not better. He never learned.

For the whole night, I stayed with him. Nobody came to us. I guess they were just scared. I would have been, too, and I was, but… I couldn't leave him. For as much as he frightened me, I couldn't leave him. He deserved all the care I could give him, which wasn't much, I knew.

He seemed to come to a bit by dawn, when I heard the front door open and then close. Lithuania was gone. What would I tell him? Lithuania hadn't even said goodbye…

It was weeks before Mr. Russia could stand again, and he looked at all the food Estonia and I tried to give him with critical and nervous eyes. "What is this?" he asked weakly as soon as he could talk. It was the second day after his poisoning. He healed quickly, but what had we been expecting? He was still rest-bound, though, and his hands shook.

"Bread and eggs," Estonia said flatly. "Breakfast. You need to eat if you want to get better."

"I don't want food. Ever again, da." He looked away from us, out the window to the harsh sunlight, closing his eyes. "He's gone, isn't he?"

"Who?" Estonia asked. I couldn't tell if he had any emotion at all. We all knew who he was talking about.

"Lithuania. My little Toris. He's gone for good this time, hasn't he?"

"I don't know," Estonia replied, "He's fickle. You know that."

With a burst of strength, Mr. Russia sat up and knocked the plate from Estonia's hands, sending the food flying onto the floor. Then he collapsed back onto the bed, groaning slightly, taking deep, sharp breaths. "Why didn't you stop him?"

I started to reply, but Estonia cut me off. "We couldn't. He had a knife. He was threatening us."

"I doubt that very much, Estonia."

"Doubt what you like. I'm telling you the truth."

I'll never be able to understand why Estonia protected me the way he did. He must have known that something bad was going to happen as soon as Mr. Russia could function again. Of course, I knew it, too, but I didn't know how badly things were going to go wrong. I didn't know that as soon as Mr. Russia could walk he would be back to his old, violent ways.

It was three weeks before he could get out of bed. He had made himself much worse by refusing to eat for a long time, until he was tired of nearly starving. He was stubborn, but he couldn't fight himself. So for a long time, I sat by the beside with him and Estonia took care of his nation. Looking back on it now, Estonia and I should have switched jobs from day to day.

Finally, Mr. Russia was back on his feet and strong. There was a terrible, cruel look in his eyes. He wanted a victim. We both knew it, Estonia and I. Lithuania shouldn't have left. It damned us all.

Estonia died in the basement. That was my fault. I was washing dishes after breakfast and asked him to get me a new dish rag and put the old one in with the other linens to be washed. I saw Mr. Russia follow him to the door, and turned away, looking at the plates with renewed interest. I wish I could have said goodbye to Estonia. I think my last words were, "Don't let me forget that I need to buy more carrots for dinner today." I was planning on going to the market.

I could hear his screams briefly, and then nothing. Part of me held on to the hope that he was alive. Severely injured, but alive. But I knew it was all useless. Mr. Russia came back up the stairs and into the kitchen with the bottom of his coat stained in blood. "Latvia," he said to me, "We're going to take a drive tonight, da. And I will have some things in bags. Simply help me dispose of them, would you?"

"Yes, sir," I muttered. I didn't dare ask about Estonia. I knew what had happened.

He was drinking for most of the afternoon and left me to drive. When I thought we had gone far enough, so far out of the city that I could no longer see the lights, he simply told me to drive further. I stopped when I saw we were low on fuel. He stumbled out of the car and pulled the five plastic bags from the trunk. I was grateful he didn't ask me to help him. I didn't want to handle my brother's remains.

We drove back into the city and the church bells rang three in the morning. At home, I curled up into my brothers bed and sobbed. How could this have happened? Why did Lithuania abandon us? He had always been Mr. Russia's favorite, and it had spared Estonia and I so much pain. I wanted things to be the way they were.

I debated the idea of running away for days after that. He was distant, which was good. I decided that it was time to go. Now my two protectors had left, I would have to leave, too. I couldn't bear the thought of having to do all the work myself, of being the only one Mr. Russia could turn to when he needed a victim.

But I was weak. I couldn't poison him, or fight him, or even let him drink himself into oblivion, as he tried to once in a while. The only thing I could do was run. Bring him his liquor and then run. So that was what I did. I waited until he was passed out on the couch in front of the fire place one late evening, and then I ran. I hadn't even packed any clothes.

I snuck my way onto a train and headed west. I didn't know where I was going. I just knew I was going. I spent a lot of time in a lot of different countries, and never relaxed, even when I knew he wasn't searching for me.

Nearly a month later, I saw him again. He had attended a meeting, and the Nation I was staying with needed to go, too. So I waited in the car, watching the building with nervous eyes. I watched Mr. Russia leave with China in his arms. My heart sank.

I could only say this for Mr. Russia: he was good at finding new victims.


End file.
